


Children Of The Beast

by sabershadowkat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A futuristic story about a reluctant hero.<br/>Season 4/Angel implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children Of The Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics: Motley Crue.  
> I wrote this story before season 4 aired. Imagine my surprise when the series' last episode mirrored what I wrote.

Part One 

 

 

In the beginning  
Good always overpowered the evils  
Of all mans sins... 

 

 

"Angel, duck!" Buffy yelled, diving forward into a roll under the giant's legs. She popped up in front of him and punched him in the gut.

Angel ducked immediately and felt the whiz of a blade buzz his hair. He grimaced and swung around, landing a fist in his opponents face. The horned monster raised his sword again and Angel latched onto its wrists, twisting. 

Willow nodded to Giles. She glanced down at her spellbook. "'With water and earth from fire is born...'" 

Giles recited from his spellbook at the same time. "'With fire and air from water is born...'" 

"Xander, catch," Oz called. 

Xander turned quickly and snatched the golf club out of the air. "Thanks," he called back, swinging the club like a bat and smashing the three-eyed beast he was fighting in the nose.

"God, I hate you people," Cordelia complained, waving the dust away from the vampire she had just staked. She quickly ran over to where Wesley was laying on the ground, unconscious.

"Eep," Buffy gasped when the giant's hand closed around her throat. She grabbed hold of his wrist and used him to shoot her feet up hard between his legs. He let out a loud bellow of pain.

"'With earth and fire from earth-air! Air is born...'" Willow faltered with the giant's cry. She made a face of worry.

Angel stepped on the sword hilt and popped it up to his hand. He went after his horned opponent with the clink of steel on armor.

Oz grunted with the hit to his stomach. He grabbed the scaley creature's next swing and used its momentum to propel it away from him. Dropping down, he picked out another golf club from the dead victim's bag.

"Wesley," Cordelia called, smacking the Watcher lightly on the face. "Wesley, wake up! You're going to get clubbed or tee'd or something really tacky on this golf course."

 

"'With air and water from earth is born...,'" Giles continued chanting.

"Fore!" Xander yelled, swinging the club up under the three-eyed creatures chin. Its head snapped back with the impact.

"'With earth, air, water and fire from earth, air, water and fire are born!'" Willow and Giles chanted simultaneously.

The entire area of the Country Club golf course the group of friends were fighting in was lit up with a bright, white flash, blinding everyone. When they could see again, the monsters were gone. 

 

 

But in time  
The nations grew weak  
And our cities fell to slums  
While evil stood strong... 

 

 

"...the government has continued its declaration of a national economic state of emergency for the fifteenth straight month..."

"Damn it, Angel," Cordelia snapped, dropping the stake in her hand. She pulled the sword out of the sheath on her back. "I told you these weren't vampires."

Angel shrugged and drew his own sword. "Doesn't mean we won't kill them."

"...the widespread depression has caused our cities to fall to rioters and looters..."

Angel swung his sword in a high arc, effectively cleaving the demon's head from its body. He darted forward, using its falling body as a ramp to flip into the center of the others. His fist lashed out, clipping one in the jaw at the same time he sent a hard side-kick at one behind him.

Cordelia thrust her sword, piercing one of the demons' stomachs. She turned her sword and yanked upward, splitting its torso. Black blood oozed from the wound as it screamed in pain. She pulled her sword out and spun, slicing the arm off an opponent trying to sneak up behind her.

"...the President is meeting with Congress to debate mobilizing armed forces..."

A fourth and fifth demon fell to the twin blades of the slayers. Black blood and dead bodies littered the pavement between the buildings. The scream of a siren split the night as an ambulance made a futile attempt to save a life in what was once the City of Angels.

"...in local news, the City of Los Angeles lost more than one-half of its City Government workers when a bomb went off inside the City Hall..." 

 

 

In the dusts of hell  
Lurked the blackest of hates  
For he whom they feared  
Awaited them... 

 

 

"Giles, I need more lavender!" Willow yelled. She quickly added other ingredients to the bowl in front of her. 

 

"Xander, clip!" Oz yelled, ejecting his spent clip from the semi-automatic in his hands. He quickly caught and inserted the one Xander tossed him. 

 

The wind howled throughout the rebuilt high school, whipping locked doors open and shattering windows. The vampires and other creatures not holding onto anything got blown away, as well. The floor began to quake, signaling the beginning of the end. 

 

In the eye of the storm, Buffy threw stake after stake over the tops of Xander's and Oz's heads at the vampires swarming at the entryway to the new library. The two young men fired their semi-automatics at the vast number of attackers, keeping them from sweeping into the library and killing those within. 

 

"No lavender," Giles told Willow, as he returned to her side on the floor behind an upturned table. "We'll have to substitute." 

 

"Do you think it'll work?" Willow asked, both strength and fear in her voice. 

 

"We'll have to hope," Giles replied. 

 

"Bloody hell!" Spike's curse rang out from the back of the stacks. He ran his hand quickly over the gash made by the large Minotaur-like creature he was fighting. Banging could be heard on the door to back entrance to the library, blockaded shut after the creature's entry by an overturned bookshelf. 

 

The earth shook again and the floor cracked beneath Giles and Willow. Two of the thirteen candles around them tipped, catching the carpeting on fire. The flames ran around the magickal circle and the pentagram drawn within. The two spellcasters sat in the center, a small cauldron between them. 

 

Giles held out his hands, palms up, and Willow set hers on top of his, palms down. The both took centering breaths before they started the spell. "'Goddess Athena, Goddess of War...'" 

 

Xander ejected another clip and in one fluid motion inserted the next one, barely pausing in his firing. Blood painted the beige carpeting red, the ash from the dusted vampires mixing in to form a thick paste. Some of the attackers slipped and fell, bringing others down with them to be crushed beneath the feet of those still standing. The stench of death was in the air. 

 

Buffy heard a roar behind her. The twenty-six year old spun and darted into the stacks, drawing the knife from sheath strapped to her hip. The Minotaur-like creature had Spike pinned up against a bookcase, his feet dangling helplessly as he clawed at the massive hand around his throat. With out a sound, she leapt up onto the creature's back and drove the blade into the side of its neck. 

 

Spike fell to the ground as the creature bellowed in pain. Buffy withdrew the knife and stabbed it again, then she jumped down. She grabbed Spike's arm and yanked him out of the way as the creature went into its death-throes and collapsed right where the peroxide-blond had been. 

 

A crack of lightning shattered the glass in the ceiling of the library. An eerie cry filled the room, as if a thousand souls were screaming in anguish. The walls of the room began to splinter from the ground upwards. 

 

Buffy crouched beside Spike and stared intently at him. "Can you do it?" 

 

Spike pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring slightly, and nodded. Buffy grabbed the back of his head and smashed her mouth to his, kissing him desperately. Then she released him abruptly and sprinted back out of the stacks. 

 

He closed his eyes for a moment as a loud screech erupted from the center of the library. He reached into the hidden pocket of his duster and pulled out a yellow diskette. Reopening his eyes, he stared at it for a moment, as he took a deep, shaky breath. Then he tucked it back into his pocket and rose to his feet. 

 

 

Now many, many lifetimes later  
Lay destroyed, beaten, beaten down  
Only the corpses of rebels  
Ashes of dreams  
And blood-stained streets... 

 

 

The Scavengers looked up when the shadow blocked one of the few streetlights that weren't broken. Their tattered clothing barely covered their thin, emaciated forms. Haunted eyes filled with fear and they quickly scrambled away. One of them let out a terrified scream as he was grabbed by the back of the collar. 

 

The scream faded away and the lifeless corpse was dropped to the ground. The Vampire licked his lips and let his human mask descend over his features. He turned to leave and was grabbed by the back of the neck. His snarl of anger turned to one of fear when he saw the creature that had hold of him. 

 

The Vampire disappeared in a cloud of ash as the Gladiator bit off his head. The Gladiator bellowed in anger at the loss of its meal, the three ivory horns jutting from the center of its forehead catching the streetlight. The ten-foot, four-armed giant suddenly jerked as bullets entered its back. It fell heavily to the ground and died. 

 

Three human Butchers jumped off the back of the pick-up truck and ran over to the body. Four others waited with pump-action shotguns at the ready. The blue-skinned, non-human driver revved the engine, his hand on the gear-shift. The Gladiator's body was quickly dragged over to the truck and dumped in, then the three mounted the back and they peeled down the street. 

 

Above them on the empty, gutted building, a Rebel watched through a pair of night-vision binoculars. He lowered them and peered across the buildings with his yellow eyes. The binoculars went into the case strapped to his lower back, then he disappeared down the broken stairwell. 

 

Less than a minute passed before the Scavengers returned. 

 

 

It has been written  
"Those who have the youth  
Have the future" 

 

 

"My Lord, we-we have f-f-failed." 

 

"Failed?" 

 

The red-eyed, scaled creature cringed. "The Rebels, my Lord, the Children, they-they-they..." He swallowed heavily. "They have rescued the prisoners." 

 

"And did any of them perish?" 

 

He started to shake. "N-No." 

 

"This is a disappointment." 

 

The creature relaxed slightly. "It is, my Lord," he agreed. Then he fell to the floor as his spine was ripped out of his back. The Gladiator behind him started to eat the bones. Two Vultures scurried forward from the shadows and descended upon the body, devouring it in seconds with their needle-sharp teeth. The two-foot, black humanoids with glowing violet eyes vanished as quickly as they appeared. 

 

The raven-haired woman sitting on a throne made of solid gold tapped her crimson, inch-long nails on the arm. Her green eyes, framed by sculpted black brows, were focused on a distant point. She bit her lower lip, the whiteness of her teeth contrasting sharply with her blood-red lipstick. She took a breath, her ample cleavage almost overflowing from her tight, emerald corset which set off her porcelain skin. 

 

"I hate those Rebels," she sighed, her voice cool and calm. "Especially the five who call themselves the Children of the Beast." 

 

 

So come now, children of the beast  
Be strong  
And Shout at the Devil 

 

 

Part Two 

 

 

"Sigh." 

 

A booted foot bounced in a steady rhythm of boredom. The woman the boot was on stretched her arms above her head before getting to her feet. She rolled her head in a slow circle, then glanced over her shoulder when she heard someone enter the room. 

 

The redhead ran her finger along the back of the couch in the center-most room of the mansion, her eyes on the dark-haired man standing across the room. He watched her with a somewhat amused smirk on his face, his arms folded across his chest. 

 

She walked towards him slowly, her hips swaying back and forth seductively in the tight, black pants she wore. Her deep red poets shirt was tied at her waist, the top two buttons undone. When she reached him, she pressed her lower body to his and ran her fingers up the front of his white t-shirt above his crossed arms. 

 

"Wanna play?" she asked, looking up at him with mischievous, green eyes. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, pink against red, in invitation. 

 

"What would your boyfriend think?" he asked. 

 

"He's no fun," she replied. "He's all wolfy." 

 

"That's because there's a full moon, Will." 

 

"But it's three whole nights, Xander!" Willow exclaimed. She pouted. "I'm bored." 

 

"Go find Giles and get him to teach you a new magick trick," Xander told her. He pushed her away. "I'm not in the mood." 

 

"Mr. Eternally Horny?" Willow said. She dropped her head and looked up at coyly under her lashes. "Now, why do I find that hard to believe?" 

 

"Is this a personal argument, or can any vamp join in?" 

 

"Hey, Buff," Xander greeted. He looked her over from head-to-toe. "What's with the Scavenger suit?" 

 

Buffy untied the dirty rag around her head and freed her blond hair. The layers of tattered and torn clothing she wore were equally as filthy, and her feet were bound in strips of cloth. "Ever heard of going undercover, Xand?" 

 

"I go undercover all the time," Xander said. "In fact, if you want, I'll join you in your bed later..." 

 

Buffy hit him with the rag. "I don't think so, Mr. Hornball." 

 

"What is it with you guys and my state of arousal?" Xander said. 

 

"Because you're always thinking with your dick rather than your brain," Cordelia said, entering the room from the west wing. She glanced at Buffy. "Loving the street-sucker look, Buffy." 

 

"Planning on getting lucky at the zoo?" Buffy said, eyeing the super-short, zebra-striped shorts and black corset on the brunette. 

 

"You're so funny," Cordelia said sarcastically. "I really think you should take your humor on the road. Now would be a good time to leave." She turned to Willow. "I just remembered, Giles wanted you. He's cursing at the computer again. He said something like monkey's intestines would give him better answers than it." 

 

"I'd better go rescue him," Willow said, heading for the east wing. "At least it'll give me someone to do." 

 

"Don't you mean 'something'?" Buffy called after her. Willow laughter was her answer. 

 

"Xander, you're with me," Cordelia said, heading for a wardrobe cabinet. She opened it up and took out a short, black leather jacket. "I'm playing a Lola from now until four." 

 

"I hate it when you get stuck with that cover," Xander grumbled, following her towards the north wing. 

 

"Yeah, but what cover has the greatest success rate in ferreting out information?" Cordelia said. 

 

Their voices trailed off and Buffy shook her head. She was glad she didn't get stuck playing a Lola for the past couple weeks. Sex was fun and good, but some of those that bought it from the Lolas were really disgusting. Rubbing at the dirt on her cheek, she headed for the west wing of the mansion. 

 

The mansion was located on the outskirts of what used to be Los Angeles. Designed by an eccentric doctor, it looked like a giant, medical red cross from the air. The single story home had four wings and a basement spread over half a mile. It was surrounded by heavy woods on all sides, but the main lawns supported gardens of vast proportions, carefully cultivated by the human Rebels that lived there. 

 

The north wing was considered the 'guest' wing. The front doors opened into the grand hall, lit by ten crystal chandeliers spaced along the arched ceiling. The entire right side held a ballroom, complete with bandstand. The left side was divided down into a study for the men, a sitting room for the ladies, and a dining room that seated one hundred. There were also two separate, ornate restrooms, one for each gender. 

 

The east wing was the 'functional' part of the mansion. The large kitchen was closest to the north wing, with a secret passage that connected it with the dining room. Beside the kitchen was the storeroom for everything not food related. It also held a hidden passage that led down to the basement. 

 

On the opposite side of the wing, the walls between rooms had been knocked down to form a giant library. The outer walls were lined with books, from floor to ceiling. Three moving ladders were attached to the shelves for easy access. Glass cabinets that held magickal components sat against the walls between the doors. Large wooden tables and chairs were spread out in the room except for an area marked off where magickal rituals took place. Several computers were also present. A secret passage sat behind one of the bookshelves that led to the south wing. 

 

The south wing was considered the 'gym' by the occupants of the mansion. An Olympic-sized, fully inclosed, indoor pool took up most of the wing. There was also a room filled with every exercise equipment known to man, including free weights. There were separate locker rooms, complete with saunas, for the men and women. The final room was a wide-open space, with the floor covered in a soft, blue mat, that was used for weapons practice. The wing also had secret passages to the basement and to the west wing. 

 

The west wing held the suites of rooms that made up the living quarters for all who chose to live above ground. Each suite had a king-sized bed, giant closet, private bath, two night-stands and a single dresser. Depending on the room's occupants, windows that ran from floor to ceiling let in the sunlight during the day. The wing connected to the north wing by a passage and each room had a trap door that led to the basement. 

 

The central-most part of the mansion was a large meeting room. Couches and chairs were set up in a square so those sitting down would all look at one another. Small coffee tables littered with ashtrays sat in front of a few of the couches. Along the walls were wardrobe closets and several weapons closets. In one corner was an always fully-stocked bar and directly opposite it in the other corner were the main stairs to the basement. 

 

The mansion's walls were made of thick stone and mortar, made to withstand attack because of the doctor's experiences in the various wars of the twentieth century. The basement was a fortified munitions depot that had tunnels connected through thick steel doors to the electric tunnels under the town, the sewers, and to the surface. It was handy for the non-humans who needed to avoid the sunlight in order to get around during the day. 

 

When Buffy got to her room, she quickly shed her disguise and hopped into the shower to wash away the grime of the streets. Her mind turned over the few tidbits of information she picked up from the other Scavengers. One of the Vampire factions within the city limits had been decimated by a pack of Gladiators. 

 

Gladiators normally didn't hunt in groups because they lacked the brain power to organize themselves. That meant someone had sent them to take out the Vampires for a reason. The Scavengers had descended upon the faction's lair within minutes of the Gladiators departure, but she didn't know if they found anything of importance or not. 

 

Shutting off the water, she quickly toweled dry and slid into a pair of spandex running tights and a matching sports bra. Her shoulder length blond hair got twisted up into a haphazard ponytail. She was planning on getting in a quick workout after she reported what she'd learned. Then she planned to exercise. 

 

Her bare feet made no noise as she traversed the hallways back through the center of the mansion to the east wing. She saw a few other night creatures pass her by, to which she gave greetings, but she did not stop to talk. The human Rebels were all tucked away for the night, some families sharing the king-sized bed, which was good or bad depending on how one looked at it. Bad because of the tight living conditions, good because it meant the humans were multiplying. 

 

Buffy could hear Giles and Willow arguing with each other the moment she passed through the archway to the wing. She smiled to herself at the extremely long-going fight between the two over the helpfulness of computers. 

 

"It's a bloody stupid machine." 

 

"Which is faster than looking it up by memory." 

 

"My memory doesn't have error messages." 

 

"So says the man who pulled out the book on demon dalliances when we wanted information on human cognitive development." 

 

"The book had been mis-shelved..." 

 

"Guys!" Buffy interrupted, entering the library. "They can hear you in the Tucson Reserve." 

 

"Hello, Buffy," Giles greeted, after shooting a final glare at Willow. The hacker grinned at him and went back to typing on the keyboard. "How did it go?" 

 

"Pretty good," Buffy replied, hopping up on the edge of the table Giles and Willow were working at. She leaned over and tucked the tag into the back of Giles' grey pullover. "There's a possible sitch involving VampF-15." 

 

"Anything we should concern ourselves immediately with?" Giles asked. 

 

"Depends," Buffy said. "Does is strike you as weird a group of Gladiators wiped out the faction?" 

 

Giles raised his brows in astonishment. "I should say so." 

 

"Do you think they were looking for something?" Willow asked. 

 

"That's a pos," Buffy answered. "Miss Merry Sunshine wouldn't have bothered with the Vampires if not. They're not much of a threat to her." 

 

"Now we must ask the question whether the Scavengers have this, er, 'something' or if it is already in Alistair's hands," Giles said. He absently removed his glasses and cleaned them as he thought, a gesture that was so ingrained into him, it was doubtful the action was made on a conscious level. 

 

"We can always go on a scavenger hunt," Buffy suggested with an evil grin. "I like the redheads myself. They taste like chicken." 

 

"Does that include me?" Willow asked with an arched brow. 

 

"No, you taste like dog-food," she teased. 

 

"Hey! Don't dis Oz like that," Willow scowled at her. 

 

Buffy winked at her, then turned her attention back to Giles. "So, do we go looking for the pot of gold?" 

 

"I shall have to discuss it with-" 

 

"The other kahunas, got it," Buffy finished. "Speaking of, where are the other two-thirds of the Triumvirate?" 

 

"Angel's off working the other half of Lola," Willow said. She smirked. "Bet he's just hating that." 

 

"I bet Cord is," Buffy said. "She's a tad possessive of her sire." 

 

"And you're not?" Willow asked. 

 

"But I have to share Spike with all of you," Buffy sighed. "She's got sire-exclusitivity." 

 

"Yeah, but you're his favorite," the redhead told her. "Master's pet." 

 

"Willow, stick it up your hole and rotate," Buffy said. 

 

"Ladies, you do realize that I am still present?" Giles asked. 

 

Buffy looked around the room. "Ladies? I don't see any ladies? Do you, Will?" 

 

"Haven't in the last few hours," Willow answered. 

 

"Sorry, Giles, it's just us soully vampiresses," Buffy said. She slid off the table. "I'll be in the gym if anyone's looking for me." 

 

The moment she left the library, she heard the two magick users go at it again. 

 

"Okay, Giles, come here and let me show you the computer is your friend." 

 

"It is not friendly. It is an annoying mess of wires and circuits." 

 

"And you're an annoying mess of useless intestines and dead flesh." 

 

 

Part Three 

 

 

"Hi, Spike," Buffy said, rolling up to her feet in the open room. "Did you get a chance to ta-" 

 

Her question was cut off by Spike's mouth descending viciously upon hers. Her eyes widened briefly before she shut them and gave into the assault. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her up against a taut body. She could feel tension, frustration, anger and need all flowing into the kiss. 

 

The kiss was broken off with a growl and Buffy's shirt was yanked up over her head. His cool mouth sucked along the side of her neck as hard fingers massaged her breasts. She dropped her head to the side to allow him more access and he grunted in approval. Lightning ran from her breasts to her sex when he pinched her nipples, then rolled them between his fingers and thumbs. 

 

She was suddenly on the floor, her pants violently ripped away from her body. On her hands and knees, she felt him scratch down her back, drawing blood. She snarled in pleasure as a wet tongue licked up the bloody trails. A snap and the sound of the decent of a zipper made her vaginal muscles quiver with anticipation, her channel becoming wet. 

She expected him to slam into her, but he surprised her by sliding into her hot, slick core with an aching slowness. He held her hips tightly so she couldn't shove back onto him. When he filled her to the hilt, he put one arm around her waist and she heard the sound of his shirt being pulled over his head. The black material landed on the floor by her head. 

 

His lean, muscular torso pressed firmly against her back, his hand flat on the floor beside hers. His legs were outside of hers, causing her thighs to be closed, making the area surrounding her entry tighter. He started to move in and out of her, slowly at first, coming almost all the way out before sliding back in to her heat. Then he sped up, grunting and growling against her neck, thrusting in and out of her at a hard pace. 

 

Her knees rose up off the ground with each thrust as he pulled up on her with his arm. His balls were slapping against the back of her thighs. She felt his fangs brush against her shoulder and she shuddered in pleasure. The heady scent of sex and blood surrounded and inflamed her. Her fingers curled into the soft mat, gouging holes with her nails. 

 

When his fangs pierced her neck, she screamed out, and her face changed as she lost control. Her eyes turned yellow, her own fangs elongated and ridges formed above her nose. She practically bucked up into him, bouncing on the ground with her knees in between each frenzied thrust. He suddenly slammed her flat to the floor, his shaft as far into her as it could get, as he climaxed. 

 

After a moment, he pulled out of her, flipped her onto her back, and kissed her violently. Sharp canines cut and tore at both their mouths and tongues. His hand slipped down between her legs and he captured her clit with his thumb and forefinger. With a small twist, she exploded into orgasm, her cries muffled by his savage assault on her lips. 

 

As abruptly as he came upon her, he broke away and stood. Staring down at her, his yellow eyes vanished into a cold blue, and he pulled up his jeans and re-fastened them. He bent down and grabbed his t-shirt, then turned and strolled towards the door. 

 

"Library, ten minutes," Spike said over his shoulder. 

 

Then he was gone. 

 

Buffy laid on the floor for a minute, their mixed fluids leaking out of her still spread legs. Her face melted back into her human mask slowly. With an airless sigh, she got to her feet, scooped up her clothing, and headed back to her room. 

 

***** 

 

Spike threw his t-shirt across his room with a hard flick of his arm. Not pausing, he walked right into his bathroom and turned on the faucet full blast. The cold water on his face did nothing for his heated thoughts. He shut tap off and rested both hands on opposite sides of the basin, his head down, the water dripping from his face. 

 

"Bloody hell," he swore quietly. He lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first two fingers. The throbbing that always seemed to reside behind the blue orbs did not diminish. He was probably going to go down in history, not as the leader of the Rebels, but as the first vampire to have tension headaches. 

 

He grabbed the hand towel off the bar by his shoulder and dried off his face. Tossing it on the sink, he headed back into the bedroom to put on a clean shirt. There wasn't enough time for him to shower the scent of Buffy off of him. 

 

Time, he thought with a sarcastic chuckle. There was never enough time to do anything. When he wasn't out on the streets, securing information or saving what few humans he could, he was planning the next offensive against Alistair or brainstorming as to her next move; dealing with the problems within the Rebel community and within the mansion; sending his childer and the other Rebels out on always-dangerous information-gathering missions; or fighting with his inner emotions about what he was doing. 

 

He was the only one out of the original eight from Sunnydale who didn't have a soul. It had taken him a month to curse the turned group of friends with the help of Angel and the then human Cordelia. He barely remembered how difficult it was to get five, hungry, newly created vampires out of the small town. 

 

The turned Slayer was the hardest for him to deal with after she'd been changed. Her blood made her much stronger than him and, without her soul and her knowledge that he possessed the curse, it had taken a lot of drugs to keep her unconscious for the month. The others were not knowledgeable that he had the diskette, nor were they in on the fact that he was going to make them into vampires if things went wrong. 

 

After Oz, Willow, Xander and Giles had been cursed, they had stopped speaking to him other than to say "Yes, Master" or "No, Master" in a sardonic manner. Buffy had finally convinced them that it had been the only way to insure they would survive to fight another night. The Hellmouth had opened, but only one demon had emerged to throw the world into darkness -- Alistair. 

 

Two months after he had made the mansion into their home, Angel turned Cordelia at her request. She didn't want Spike's fangs anywhere near her, but she wanted to stay in the fight. It had taken her three days of constant whining to get his sire to do it. To this day, he believed Angel did it more to get her to shut up than because it was the right decision. 

 

As the years passed, Willow and Giles worked on creating a new spell that would bind their souls to them, which they eventually succeeded in doing, much to their happiness. They had offered to give him his, but he had refused. He was helping fine without it and he didn't want to lose the control he had over his unlife. 

 

He had taught his childer everything they needed to know about being a vampire, with the exception of Giles. The old Watcher had turned to Angel for teaching and, in a surprising exchange, Cordelia had chosen Spike to teach her. He taught them how to feed without killing their victim, how to cross the border of being good to being evil when necessary without it making them feel guilty, how to torture, how to fight and how to survive. 

 

He was merciless in his teachings. He needed for them to be strong and, in order to make them that way, he used similar methods Angel had used on him when he'd been turned. They absolutely hated him...until he taught them the pleasures of vampiric sex. Then they only hated him ninety percent of the time. 

 

They had called him the Beast, to which he tried his best to make them believe he was one. The five vampires, who had been turned when they were twenty-six, became the most efficient and deadly force in the fight against Alistair. He was extremely proud of them, though he hadn't once admitted it, other than to Angel in the privacy of the bedroom. 

 

Spike rubbed his temples and pulled on the reserve of strength he relied on to get him by on less than two hours of sleep per day. There wasn't enough time to sleep anyway. He chuckled hollowly again and left his room to go to the library. 

 

*****

Part Four 

 

Giles was shelving books when Spike walked into the library. He glanced down at the title in his hand, double checking it, before he put it in its place. The simple activity was very relaxing and it allowed him to know that each tome was handled with respect. 

Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would become a librarian for what very well could be eternity. He didn't think he'd become a vampire, either, but that was always a possibility when one was a Watcher. Technically, he was no longer an "official" Watcher and hadn't been for quite a long time, but he still acted in that capacity. He was the one they turned to for information and communication with other Rebel factions throughout the world. He was also one of the three advanced magick users of the original band of Rebels. 

He moved down the row, the ladder silent as he gave it a gentle push, and he shelved another book. His thoughts turned to the other two vampires who made up the Triumvirate for the West Coast Rebel community. Whereas he dealt with the needs of the library, providing information and communication, Angel oversaw the day-to-day things that needed to be dealt with in keeping the community from fracturing. He made sure that everyone, humans and non-humans, were fed, clothed and had shelter; that the small hospital located under the mansion had adequate supplies; and he took special care of the small group of friends from Sunnydale. 

Spike, on the other hand, was the real leader of the entire opposition against Alistair. Not a single move was made on the West Coast, the heart of the war-zone, unless he had approved it, whether it be from going undercover, to patrolling the streets, to taking the offensive. He gave out assignments, collected the information, and formed strategies, all with the goal of destroying Alistair once and for all. 

He also went out every night, either to patrol the streets or undercover. He helped saved humans when he could, destroyed their killers when he couldn't, and constantly tried to find more non-sterile women in order to help repopulate the earth. He made the decision as to who became a part of the Rebels and who was allowed to reside in the mansion. Finally, when there was a decision to be made that neither Giles nor Angel could answer, they turned to Spike. 

Giles climbed down the ladder and looked over at the stone-faced peroxide-blond. His bleached hair was the only personal thing he insisted on, even though Giles and any of the others would give Spike anything he desired. However, it was not because he was their sire nor because he was their friend. 

It was because Spike, the soulless vampire, chose to have the fate of all humanity rest on his shoulders. 

"Alright, people, tell me what you got," Spike said. 

Giles joined the group sitting at one of the tables. Willow sat in front of the computer, of which the technology had not changed since the Hellmouth opened, with an extremely sloppily dressed Buffy beside her. Angel, who had come in a few moments before, sat across from the former Slayer and Giles took the seat beside his teacher and friend. Spike, as usual, stood at the end of the table, a still-unlit cigarette in his hand. 

"As I told Giles earlier," Buffy began, putting her foot on the chair so she could rest her chin on her knee. "Gladiators wiped out VampF-15 sometime in the past three nights. That's all I was able to find out." 

"Willow, see if the Hackers heard anything about that," Spike instructed immediately. "And I'll need the list of the current daywalkers available for assignment." 

"I have that right here," Willow said, rising from her seat and walking quickly over to a desk filled with clipboards. She picked one up and gave it to Spike. Those who could go out during the day were normally humans and, because of their lack of supernatural abilities, they were given the option of volunteering for assignment. A fresh sign-up sheet was posted weekly. 

"Angel?" Spike said, giving the list a quick once over. 

"A couple Lolas were murdered also within the last few days," Angel said. 

"Coincidence or not?" Spike questioned. 

"It would depend on if any of their, er, clientele in the past week was from that Vampire faction," Giles said. 

"We'll assume that they were, which means the bloody bitch had them killed," Spike said. He set down the clipboard. "Now we just have to figure out why." 

Spike lit up his cigarette and took a deep drag. Giles could almost see the wheels turning in the blond's head. Permanent frown lines were etched between his brows and Giles tried to remember the last time he'd seen Spike smile. He couldn't. 

"Right, here's what I think," Spike said. "Either the Vampires had something or knew something possibly harmful to Alistair. If it was knowledge, we're tits up. If they had something, I want to know what it was, where it is now, and why it's important." 

He glanced down at the list on the clipboard. "Giles, I want Harnach, Seals, Duford, Kirkham and Cates to go under as Scavengers, day only, for the week. They are to be back half-hour before sunset, no later." 

"Very well," Giles said. 

"Willow, after you check with the Hackers, I want you and the Slayer to go under as Scavengers, too," Spike continued. "Sundown to sunup. Try to get to one of their main pack-houses." 

"Got it," Willow said. Buffy nodded. 

"Giles, also inform Molnar, Brandy, Dewey, Logan, Janes and Rose they're Scavengers," Spike said. "Same parameters as these two." 

Giles nodded, still amazed to the fact that Spike had practically every member of the Rebel community's name memorized and could identify them easily. Then again, that was a sign of an exceptional leader. 

"Angel, you take Xander and Cordelia and flesh out the Butchers," Spike instructed. "They may have seen or heard something on one of their hunts. Second team will be Pagels, Deltro and Lavery." 

"I'll tell them," Angel said. 

"Within a quarter hour of after sundown and again after sunup, I will be here in the library," Spike said. "I don't have to warn everyone to be careful. If that cow ashed an entire soddin' faction, she must have had a bloody important reason." 

Then, without a word of goodbye, Spike turned and left the library. 

"Is it me, or was the stick shoved up Spike's ass further than usual?" Willow asked. 

"Willow!" Buffy exclaimed. "Where did that come from?" 

"I was channeling Cordy," Willow replied with a grin. 

Angel glared at the redhead. "Speaking rudely of Cordelia, where is she?" 

"Lola duty with Xander," Buffy answered. 

***** 

Cordelia struggled against the yellow-skinned, tusked demon that had her pinned to the brick wall. Xander was around the corner of the building, fighting several of the demon's friends. They were Randoms, stray demons who didn't associate themselves with any particular faction. 

There were many dangers associated with playing a Lola and the attack was only one of them, which was why the undercover assignment was done in pairs, the Lola and backup. The demon attacking her wasn't interested in paying for sex. He and his friends had planned on raping her and, more than likely, they planned to kill her. 

She stamped on the demon's foot with her stiletto, the sharp tip puncturing his shoe because of her enhanced strength. He snarled in pain and used his grip on her shoulders to slam her against the wall. She growled and grabbed his crotch, glad that this type of demon had similar anatomy to a human male. 

The demon shoved himself away from her. Her stiletto came off her foot, the heel still embedded in his shoe. The instant she had been released, she pressed an attack. A rapid snap kick sent him staggering back further. She stepped forward with the action and fluidly followed up the move with a round kick to his face. 

She felt her human mask slip away when he hit her. The powerful punch cracked her cheek bone and her head snapped to one side. Fury raced through her system and she drew on it as the Beast, Spike, had taught her. 

With a vicious snarl, she spun, using the momentum to swing her arm up to claw his face with her nails. She grabbed his arm with his next punch and ducked under it, coming up behind him. She yanked that arm up behind his back until his shoulder came out of its socket. With her other hand, she snared his single tail of hair, jerked his head to the side and sunk her fangs into his neck. 

The demon fell to the ground, drained. Cordelia kicked off her other shoe and ran around the corner in time to see Xander drop another body. The corpses of three others littered the ground around him. He smacked his lips together in an exaggerated manner. 

"Nothing like violence to whet your appetite," Xander said with a fang-filled grin. 

Cordelia put her human mask back into place and touched her cheek. She winced. "Tell me my cheek looks fine." 

"Your cheek looks fine," Xander said. His own human features returned. 

"You're lying." 

"Yep." 

She kicked at one of the corpses with her bare foot. "Stupid Randoms!" 

"Um, Cordy, where are your shoes?" Xander asked. She let out a small growl and stormed back around the corner. 

Thirty seconds later, her screamed curses made the moon blush. 

***** 

"Look! Look what those Randoms did to me!" 

Angel dropped the book he was reading when his suite door banged open and Cordelia came stalking into the room. She slammed the door shut behind her, turned around and held up her stilettos. 

"They ruined my shoes!" Cordelia ranted. She threw them down on the floor. "Do you know how hard it was to find a pair like that?!" 

Angel expertly hid his laugh and set the book on the night-stand. He stood and walked over to her, stopping her mid-obscenity by capturing her chin and tilting her face up. "You're hurt." 

"Not as much as they are," she replied. 

He brushed her injured cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'm glad," he said quietly, then pressed a soft kiss on her lips. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss, then moaned, breaking away. "Stupid Randoms." 

Angel scooped her up, with a small squeak of surprise from her, and carried her over to the bed. "Why don't I try to take your mind off the pain," he suggested with a seductive murmur. 

"I'll let you know when it works," she said. 

He quirked his brow at her, as his fingers manipulated the stays on her strapless corset. "You have doubts?" 

"Well, I've been done five times already tonight," she told him. Her lips curled up in a naughty smile. "One of them was a nine." 

He pushed apart the material, baring her pale, heavy breasts to him. Gently, he cupped them both with his hands, then slid his fingers together until they met at her dark nipples. He tugged lightly on them, smirking when she gasped slightly in pleasure. "How am I doing?" 

"The Random excited me more," she replied loftily. 

Angel chuckled and lowered his head. He captured one of the hard peaks with his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it several times before he began suckling her tit. She wiggled her hips a little on the bed under his arm and he grinned as he kissed down into the soft valley then up onto her other breast. He repeated his ministrations until she moved her hips again. 

"Anything?" he asked, his hands moving to the fastenings of her zebra-striped shorts. 

"You're up to a two," Cordelia answered. "But all five of my lays were at least a four." 

"Then I'd better get cracking," he teased. The shorts got tossed over his shoulder, then he ran his hands lightly up both of her legs. When he reached the apex, he brushed his thumbs over her dark curls, but continued upwards. His fingertips danced across her abdomen and he watched as her muscles quivered. Raising his gaze, Cordelia gave him a fake yawn and patted her mouth politely with her hand. 

Undaunted, he slid his hands back down and pushed her legs apart. Moving onto the bed, he settled between them on his stomach. He separated her silken folds with his fingers and was pleased to see her clit was hard and extended, begging to be touched. The scent of her arousal hit him, causing him to swell, the material of his pants pulling tight. 

He winked at her, then ran his tongue up each pink fold. He circled around her most sensitive spot and descended along her slit, tasting the first bit of her juices. She let out an airless sigh and he took that as his sign to attack her clit, causing her to jerk her hips up into his mouth. 

He sucked her nubbin into his mouth, flicking it rapidly with his tongue. He glanced up at her and saw that her head was thrown back, allowing him a view of her slim neck. He moved his hand under his chin and thrust two fingers inside of her. She groaned in pleasure as he stroked the top of her core with those fingers, curling them towards her entry repeatedly. 

When she began to move her mound against his mouth in rhythm with his tongue, he knew she was close. He sucked harder on her, pulling her clit into his mouth, his jaw moving as well. Suddenly, she let out a loud cry as she climaxed, her body arching up off the bed, her hands entangling into his hair to hold him against her. 

She slumped back down onto the bed and Angel withdrew his fingers only to replace them with his tongue. He lapped up her juices, enjoying her sweet taste. After a few moments, he raised his head and rested his cheek on her thigh, staring up at her. She glanced down at him and gave him a half-smile. 

"Not bad," Cordelia said. "You get the silver." 

Angel crawled up her body and pressed his hips to hers. "Just the silver, huh? And here I was hoping for the gold." 

"Well, you still have a chance," she said coyly. "There's one more event in the Cordy Olympics." 

"Be sure to let me know how I do," he said before nipping at her neck. 

She gave him a perfect ten. 

 

Part Five 

 

Oz didn't know which he hated worse: the fact that, even though he was a card carrying member of the Soulful Vampire Club, he was still a werewolf; or the fact that because he was a vampire and a werewolf, he was taken out of the fight against Alistair almost completely three nights per month. 

Being a werewolf and a vampire was the same as being a werewolf and a human except for one small part. If he got loose, the werewolf wouldn't know that he had to find shelter from the sun. Waking up a flaming pile of dust was not something he wanted to experience. 

He headed from the west wing to the east wing, wanting to at least kiss Willow once before she went to bed. The three days of the full moon were very lonely for him, unless he wanted to pal around with the humans or other daywalkers. He knew that Spike was always up and around, but the Beast was almost impossible to find because the number of things the peroxide-blond did to keep the Rebels in action. 

It had taken Oz a little while to forgive Spike for turning him. He'd learned something that brief month when he'd been soulless that he never wanted to learn about himself. He'd learned that, without his soul, he was Devon. All he had cared about was blood, music and sex. His first kill had been an entire band when they stopped during their flight from Sunnydale. 

Thinking about his former co-musician brought a small smile to his face. Devon had been gone for a very long time, along with everyone who'd been in Sunnydale when the Hellmouth had opened. In fact, Sunnydale didn't exist at all. There was a big crater where the town had been, created when Alistair had closed the Hellmouth herself to "keep out the competition," according to the information they'd pieced together. 

Wandering into the library, he saw his redheaded girlfriend where he knew she'd be -- in front of the computer. "Hey," he greeted softly. 

Willow looked up from the screen and a large smile crossed her lips. "Hi, you're you." 

"I'm me," Oz said. He went over to her and they shared an all-to-brief kiss. When they broke apart, he glanced at the computer. "What's up?" 

"Some Gladiators eradicated the entire Vampire faction fifteen," she replied. 

He gave her a questioning look. "Think they found what they were sent for?" 

"That's what Spike wants to know," Willow said. "I'm surfing the Hackers to see if they heard anything." 

"I'll take over," Oz said. "You get some sleep." 

Willow gave him a grateful look. "How did you know I was tired?" 

"Because I know you," he replied. He gave her a soft smile. "Get lost, Willow." 

Willow laughed and rose from her seat. She gave him a tight hug, then left the library. Oz took her chair in front of the computer and quickly scrolled down the screen. He checked where she had already been and read the notes she'd made on a sheet of paper on the table beside the computer. Choosing his favorite chat room for finding reliable information, he logged in and got to work. 

[Teenwolf] Greetings

[Roadrunner] Hey man

[Sophie] Hi TW!

[Night] Hey! Haven't seen you in a while

[Teenwolf] RL

[Creep] I hear ya

[Teenwolf] Small group

[Night] It's bedtime for most of us

[Roadrunner] That's because we've been on all night

[Teenwolf] Did I miss anything good?

[Sophie] Avon had a close call with a Gladiator the other night

[Creep] Ya, she was telling us about it...freaky deaky

[Teenwolf] A Gladiator??? Does she have a suicide wish?

[Night] It was one of those off-chance encounters

[Roadrunner] During the day

[Sophie] If it had been at night, I'd be wondering what Av was doing out

[Teenwolf] Where was she?

[Night] 15th street 

That was where VampF-15 was located, Oz thought. He'd have to get in touch with Avon and find out what she witnessed. After jotting down the information on the paper beside the computer, he returned his attention back to the chat room conversation. 

***** 

Xander trudged behind Cordelia and Angel down 15th Street, a sullen expression on his face. He didn't like getting stuck with the two of them, especially after they'd been all lovey-dovey with each other. The vibes of happiness and satisfaction that rolled between them made him want to puke. 

"So, what are we doing again?" he asked. 

"Finding out if the Butchers saw or heard anything," Angel answered. 

"Can't we just call them?" Xander said. He kicked a rusty can and it skittered away noisily. 

"And do what?" Cordelia said. "Say 'Hi, I'm a Rebel and I wondered if you knew anything about the Vampire killing the other night.' Get a brain, Xander." 

Xander was about to retort when he heard the distinct sound of a pick-up truck. "Incoming," he warned, then blended back into the shadows of the dilapidated building. He saw Angel and Cordelia vanish in much the same way out of the corner of his eye. 

The old pick-up drove slowly around the corner. He counted five Butchers, humans and non-humans who hunted the other groups for food and fun. Two of them were in the cab, the other three were in the open truck bed, holding shotguns. 

Just after they passed him, Xander darted from the shadows and leapt up into the back of the truck. He snatched the shotgun from a surprised blue humanoid, chambered the round and leveled it between the three Butchers, all within seconds. 

"Drop 'em," he ordered the other armed Butchers, one a human female, the other a lizard-like creature. He saw his two companions descend upon the cab of the truck and braced himself for the sudden stop. When it did, the human female fell forward and dropped her shotgun, the humanoid tumbled off the side to hit the pavement, leaving only the lizard still armed. 

Xander smiled slowly. "'Do you feel lucky, punk?'" 

The Butcher tossed his shotgun to the floor at the same time the female got back to her feet. Xander casually put a booted foot on the edge of the open bed, put his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on a closed fist, the shotgun held easily aimed at them in his other hand. 

"I have a question. You have an answer," Xander said in a cool voice. "What did the Gladiators make off with during their attack on VampF-15 the other night?" 

"We don't know what your talking about," the human female said rudely. 

"Eeehh." Xander made a sound like a buzzer. "Wrong answer." 

In an instant, he turned, blew the head off the humanoid who was trying to creep up behind him and returned to his original position. He arched his brow. "Want to try two out of three?" 

The female laughed nervously. "You know, now that I think about it, we may have seen something. Right, Skin?" 

"Yesss," the lizard-like creature replied. 

"And that would be?" Xander asked. 

"Something small," the female said. She held up her fist. "About this size." 

"And...?" 

"And that's about it," she replied. 

Xander shot the lizard-like creature in the leg without warning. It let out a loud hiss of pain and collapsed to the truck bed. 

"Shit! It was clear, ok?!" she yelled. "Like a piece of glass or something. That's it, I swear!" 

"Thanks," Xander said with a smile. He jumped out of the back of the truck and walked backwards into the shadows of the building, the shotgun still aimed at the Butchers. Once he was in the clear, he turned and ran down the nearby alley and out onto the next street. Cordelia and Angel joined him a few moments later. 

"Damn it, Xander, you could at least warn us before you do something stupid," Cordelia snapped at him. "That way we'll know to stake you before hand." 

Xander tossed the shotgun to Angel. "It worked, didn't it?" 

"Barely," Angel said. "Half a second off and we would have been picking up your pieces." 

"Just call me Humpty Dumpty," Xander said. He turned and started walking back towards the mansion. 

***** 

Willow scurried between shadows, her shoulders hunched over, holding her tattered layers of clothing to her. She gazed furtively around, keeping her head down, acting like a nervous Scavenger. She'd been trailing a certain small pack of them for most of the night, hoping they'd lead her back to one of their pack-houses. 

Scavengers were just as their group title described. Mostly made up of the weak or the sick, they searched through the rubble and fallout of the destroyed city for anything usable. They were quite numerous, despite the fact that they were easy prey. She and the others primarily fed from the Scavengers because they were so easy to catch, which gave them more time to concentrate on the fight against Alistair. 

The demoness, who had escaped through the opening of the Hellmouth, was the hardest adversary anyone had ever faced, as evident with the fact that they had yet to destroy her. It was not for lack of trying on their part, but so far she'd turned out to be as invincible as the old Mayor from Sunnydale before he tried to ascend. Xander had even stuffed a live grenade down her throat once when they'd mounted an all-out offensive against her. They'd watched as she swallowed it whole and heard it explode inside of her. She had giggled, put her hand over her mouth and said: "Pardon me." They hadn't been able to get close to her since. 

The worst of Alistair's reign of terror was centered on the West Coast. Demons, vampires and other creatures descended on what once was Los Angeles, clamoring for a place under her rule. The human population was decimated, those not killed on the streets were captured and kept as cattle, the women not-sterilized by the residual energy of the Hellmouth's opening, which still created adverse affects even after all the years that passed, were forced to breed. 

The fight seemed never-ending. Night after night, the small group of friends went out in various disguises to find out any information they could. Knowledge was power, not just brute force, as Spike had taught them. When he had first said it, each of the five he was teaching had wondered if he was sick. The Spike they had known was kill first, ask questions later. He had never explained his change of tune and no one had the guts to ask him after the first time. Willow's bones still hurt from the torture the Beast had put them through after Cordelia had mentioned it. 

Willow crept carefully through the doorway the Scavengers had gone into and looked around. She spotted a hole somewhat hidden by a broken down shelving unit. Her enhanced sight made it easy for her to see as she crawled through, allowing her to act as though she belonged. 

The hole opened up into a large storeroom and she had to hide her excitement when she saw the amount of things piled everywhere. She'd found a pack-house. Scavengers climbed up and down the small mountains of rubbish, adding more or retrieving things. They scurried between the heaps like mice building nests. The conversation was hushed, a low hum in the vast room. 

She made her way into the room, trying to find rhyme or reason to the piles. She was happy to see several human children running around, playing tag or some other game. Although the demon part of her thought "appetizers," her soul was uplifted by the sight. One day, Alistair would be gone, humans would be free of fear and happiness would find its place in the world again. Hopefully, she'd still be around to see it. 

"You're one of them, ain't ya?" 

Willow turned to the hoarse, male voice and found herself looking down at an old human man, dressed in the tattered clothing of a Scavenger. "One of who?" she asked, keeping her voice pitched low and timid. 

"Those Rebels," he said, peering up at her with wise, blue eyes. 

"No, I-" 

He laughed, a small, humor-filled sound that ended with a harsh cough. Willow reached out and patted his back, earning her a huge smile. He gestured with the cane in his hand after he'd stopped coughing. "Come, come. I've been waiting for you." 

As he waddled away, she frowned at the back of him and went on guard for a trap. She followed him carefully through the maze of stuff and found herself in the area the Scavengers slept. Blankets, old mattresses and pillows littered the floor, with barely a foot to walk between them. The old man led her to the back corner and knocked a few times on a steel door. The door opened and he gestured with her to follow again. 

There were about a dozen elderly men and women in the room, mostly humans with a few demons she readily identified and knew the weaknesses of. They stopped talking when she entered and stared at her. She felt like she was on Lola duty, dressed in her tightest, skimpiest clothing, rather than the layers of rags she wore. 

The door closed behind her and she immediately tensed. She straightened to her full height and released her hold on her clothing to free her hands. The old man motioned to her to join them in the middle of the room. 

"I have brought her," he said to the group. 

One woman raised a broken pair of spectacles and peered through them at Willow. "She doesn't look like a Rebel." 

"I though they were taller," another commented. 

"With big teeth." 

"Horns!" 

"Eyes in the back of their head." 

"And large muscles so that she can rip a Gladiator in two." 

"She is not only a Rebel," one strong, female voice rang out above the others. They all quieted and turned to a small, stoop-shouldered, human woman, with long gray hair that reached the floor. Her eyes were milky white, indicating blindness, yet she looked right at Willow. "She is one of the Children." 

The others gasped and turned to Willow. She definitely felt as though she was on display now. "Listen, I think you've got me mistaken with someone else, someone who's not me. So, I'll be going..." 

"We are honored by your presence, Child of the Beast," she continued, as if Willow hadn't spoken. "You and your compatriots have done great things in trying to dispel the evil one." 

"Um, yeah," Willow said. "About my going..." 

"I am Minix, Elderwoman of the Council of Scavengers," she said, gesturing to the others. "We pledge our loyalty to the Beast and the Rebels. What we have is yours." 

"Thanks. That's really nice of you," Willow said. "Any help is always...helpful." 

"Give her the thing," one of the members whispered loudly. 

"Well, where is it?" 

"Didn't you have it?" 

"No, I gave it to Hortense." 

"Don't look at me." 

"Well, someone has to have it." 

"Unless it grew feet and walked away." 

"That is a possibility." 

"No, I'm sure someone has it." 

"Squire hid it away." 

"I'll get it, I'll get it, hold your old bones." 

The half-demon identified as Squire hustled to the far end of the room. Willow watched as he opened a hidden cache in the wall and pulled out a cloth bundle. He closed the cache and hurried back to her side. "Here, Child of the great, mighty, superior, intelligent, daring, powerful, never seen yet all knowing, leader of the Rebels, known only as the Beast." 

Willow bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the long description of Spike. She accepted the bundle with a polite thank you and opened it carefully. Nestled inside was what looked like a shard of clear glass, slightly square in shape, with rough edges. 

"That's a part of what those Gladiators took from the Vampires," Minix told her. 

Willow's eyes widened and she felt the thrill of excitement bubble inside her. "Vampire faction fifteen?" she asked for clarification. 

"Yes," Minix answered. 

"This is great!" Willow gushed. "Thank you so much! You don't know what this means-" 

"Yes we do, Child," Minix interrupted. "Every little thing we collect is examined for use against Alistair." She chuckled. "Of course, that shard is the first thing that has possible value." 

Minix nodded to the old man who escorted Willow and he opened the door. "Good luck, Child," she said. "And tell the one known as the Beast that the Council of Scavengers will do anything to help." 

 

Part Six 

 

Spike dove forward, his hand going to his right boot, and as he rolled to a standing position, he chucked the knife he pulled out of its sheath at the demi-human Random he was fighting. It flew end over end before embedding in the creature's eye-socket. Without stopping, he immediately spun, his left fist lashing out to catch the second demi-human behind him across the jaw. As he punched, he brought his right arm close across his chest, pulling another knife from the sheath strapped to his waist. On the back-swing, his right hand rose as if to punch the creature again, but instead, the knife slashed across its throat. Blood spurted from the fatal injury, splashing across Spike's bare arm. 

He was grabbed from behind. Two strong, large hands clamped around his neck, lifting him off the ground. He dropped the knife, latched onto the wrists of his attacker, and shot his feet upwards. With flexibility that came from years of fighting, his legs flew up over his head, the toes of his steel-tipped boots slamming into his attacker's face. 

He was released abruptly with the crunch of bones, and he twisted his body as he fell heavily to the ground, landing on his side rather than on his head. A third knife was drawn from his right thigh-sheath and he rolled several times to get out of the path of his scarlet, vampire-like attacker planting his boot in Spike's face. He shot to his feet, whipped around, and threw the third knife down the alleyway. It landed, blade first, in the back of a fourth attacker's neck and the black-skinned Random dropped the Scavenger child he was carrying away. 

Spike saw the child scamper away as the Random fell to the ground, causing him to receive a blow to his lower back. His heel came up sharply behind him, catching whomever the attacker was between the legs. He reached over his shoulder, grabbed a fistful of hair and tossed his orange-scaled opponent over his shoulder. 

He yanked a wire garrote from the belt loops around his waist, sprinted forward and snaked it around the throat of yet another Random trying to make off with different Scavenger child. The Random's head came partway off with a sickening rip and the child screeched as he was coated in blood before running away. 

He let go and the body fell to the ground to join his other three dead comrades. Two more remained standing, the scarlet one he'd kicked in the face and the one he'd thrown over his shoulder. Not pausing, he shot forward over the body, meeting his opponents half-way. Another knife flashed in the moonlight, this time, however, it was wielded by the orange-scaled creature. 

Spike let out no sound as the blade cut across his face from his temple to his lip, barely missing his right eye. His human mask flickered briefly, but the chiseled, strong planes stayed prevalent, as his hand shot out. He grabbed the knife by the blade, clenching it tightly in his fist, and threw a right cross at the creature's jaw. The sharp edges of the knife slit his palm as the creature tried to yank it from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip on it. 

The scarlet, vampire-like Random circled around behind him. Spike waited for less than a beat, then clamped his right hand around the knife-wielder's wrist and spun into him. He released his hold on the blade and shoved the creature's arm forward, effectively impaling the other attacker in the chest. He brought his knee up and cracked the orange-scaled creature's arm on it. The knife stayed embedded in the vampire-like creature and he fell to the ground, as Spike drove his elbow back. 

Releasing his foe quickly, he spun around, grabbed the orange-scaled creature's head and twisted. A loud snap echoed in the alleyway. The last of the Randoms dropped slowly to the ground, dead. 

Spike surveyed the scene around him, his lips compressed into a thin line. Blood ran down the side of his face from the knife wound and from a second gash across his right bicep. His forearms were also splattered with blood, both from the small cuts on them and from those he'd killed. Moving with measured steps, he retrieved his garrotte and each of his knives. 

As he dropped to one knee to pull the last blade out of the back of the black-skinned Random's neck, a small voice spoke to him from the shadows. 

"You're him, aren't you?" 

Spike glanced to his left and saw one of the children he'd rescued. He pulled the knife free and wiped the blade on his calf. "Who am I suppose to be?" he asked in a low tone. 

"The hero," the boy answered. 

He chuckled hollowly. "I'm no hero." 

The dark-haired, dirty child's blue eyes pierced his own cool, blue gaze. "The elderwoman said you would be the one to save us all." 

"I think this elderwoman has been telling you tall tales," Spike said. He rose to his feet and slid the knife into the thigh-sheath. 

"She doesn't lie," the boy told him. "She said you were valiant, which she said meant you were the greatest man in the whole world." 

"The greatest man, eh?" he said sardonically. "Right, well, you tell your elderwoman that I'm nothing more than a soddin' vampire who doesn't have enough bloody sense to know he's been defeated." 

Without another word, he turned and walked away. 

Minix appeared out of the shadows and put her hand on the boy's shoulder, her sightless eyes on Spike's retreating back. "That is why you are the hero." 

***** 

Sixteen pairs of eyes stared at the peroxide-blond vampire when he entered the library fifteen minutes late of his appointed time to meet after sunup, holding a towel pressed to his face, the other wounds still prevalent on his arms. He walked to the end of the largest table where the seven original Rebels sat and began immediately. 

"Giles, report," Spike ordered. 

"Something was indeed taken from the Vampire faction by the Gladiators," Giles said. He opened the bundle on the table in front of him and pushed it to Spike. "This is a shard of what they took. From the various reports given, the original object was possibly spherical in shape, roughly four inches in diameter. Oz, Molnar, Janes and Rose have found information indicating that, when the object is in direct sunlight, it casts a-a, er, rainbow, which leads to the conclusion that it is a prism of some sort. The material of the shard is either glass or a precious stone, which I will find out as-as soon as I can." 

"Anything else?" Spike asked. No one replied. "Right, then. Giles, keep or find whoever you want to research this prism. I want to know what it is and what it does as soon as bloody possible. The rest of you, get some sleep." 

Then, just as quickly as he started the meeting, he ended it and left the library. 

Giles stood. "I would like the, er, Children to please stay. The rest of you, have a good rest." 

"Ooh, a research party," Xander said, rubbing his hands together. "I'll start the round robin."

Buffy and Willow laughed, Cordelia rolled her eyes and Oz gave him a small nod, as the others left the room. 

Angel stood. "I'm going to go check on Spike. He looked a little worse for wear." 

"Good," Buffy said, a worried look in her eyes. "If you need me, I'll be here." 

He nodded and headed out of the library. He knew his eyes held the same amount of worry as Buffy's had for the blond vampire. Angel loved Spike as both a childe and a best friend, and he was afraid, one day, Spike would be too exhausted to fight because of the enormous pressure he put on himself and wouldn't make it home. 

"Yeah?" Spike called out when Angel knocked on the suite door. 

Angel entered the room and shut the door behind him. "It's just me." 

Spike exited the bathroom with a first aid kit in his hand, the towel still pressed to his cheek. "How did I know it would be you?" 

"Let's see," Angel said, walking over to him and taking the first aid kit. He grimaced when he saw the gash across Spike's face. "Damn, Spike, what did you do?" 

Spike shrugged and pulled his t-shirt off, letting it drop to where the towel had fallen. "What I always do," he replied. His boots and pants joined the pile on the floor. 

After he sat down on the edge of his bed, Angel began doctoring up his wounds. Spike winced several times, but never uttered a single sound. The dark-haired vampire studied him and noted the fatigue in his eyes. "You look tired," he commented quietly. 

"Understatement, mate." Spike chuckled. "I'm so tired, I want to grab Buffy, use her tits as pillows and sleep for the next fifty years." 

"Why don't you?" Angel asked. 

"Right and lose the best fighter I got?" Spike said. 

Angel waited, knowing that Spike would continue. The trust and honesty that had developed between them over the years was one of the best things that happened for Angel. He knew he could tell Spike anything, and vice versa. 

He closed the first aid kit and set it on the night-stand. Spike laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. Angel walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, positioning himself so the blond's head could rest on his thigh. Gently, he began giving Spike a facial massage, being careful to avoid aggravating the knife wound. 

"Cor, I bloody hate sending her out there." Spike finally broke the silence. "I'm afraid she won't come back to me." 

"Have you ever told her how you feel?" Angel asked. 

"Yeah, right," Spike scoffed. 

"Spike, Dru's been gone for a very long time now," he said. 

"I know that, you tosser. I was there when she fucking died." 

"I know you were," Angel said. "But it's okay to love someone else." 

"What am I suppose to do? Go up to her and say 'Hey, Slayer, I've loved you since you were still a bloody human, now I'm going to send you to your possible death?'" Spike snapped. "I don't think there's a soddin' card for that sort of thing." 

"I bet Willow could make you one," Angel joked lightly. 

"Sod off," Spike growled. "It's better that she doesn't know, anyway. She'll concentrate more on staying alive and less on hearts and flowers and all that stupid female crap." 

Angel sighed and let the conversation die. His fingertips gently massaged Spike's forehead and scalp, and he felt the younger vampire slowly begin to relax. After a few minutes, Angel knew Spike had fallen asleep. As carefully as he could, he maneuvered himself from the bed, pulled the comforter over the blond and crept silently out of the room. 

 

*****

Part Seven 

 

"Here we go, 'crystal methadone,'" Xander said, putting his finger on the page. "Maybe Alistair's a drug addict." 

Buffy closed the book she was looking through and stood, as the others started joking about what Xander said. "I'm gonna take a break, guys," she told them, then left the library. 

She carefully cracked the door to Spike's room open and peered inside. She saw him laying curled up sideways on the bed, asleep. Quietly, she entered the suite and shut the door behind her. 

She took everything that was piled on the single chair in the room and put it on the floor. Then she moved the chair to the end of the bed and sat down, tucking her feet under her. She studied his sleeping face, a worried frown marring her brow at the blood-stained, butterfly bandages on his cheek. She could tell the wound was bad enough that it wouldn't fully heal for two to three days. 

Buffy felt a tear run down her cheek and she quickly brushed it away. She hated seeing him hurt, even just a little bit. It reminded her that he wasn't invincible, despite his attitude to the contrary. No matter what happened, he kept going, fighting and planning and saving those that needed to be saved. He did nothing for himself. Even when he fucked her, it wasn't about him finding pleasure, it was about releasing the anger and the frustration that he couldn't do more to help others. 

He had never made love to her. Not once in all the years the group had been together. She wondered if he would have when she was still human. She had felt his arousal when they had sparred and had seen the flame of desire in his blue eyes numerous times over the years he had been forced to help her. Yet, the first time they had kissed was the night the Hellmouth opened, the night she became a vampire. 

She wondered if he ever regretted turning them. Turning her. When she had learned that the Hellmouth would possibly open, she and Spike had talked for hours about all conceivable outcomes. He had agreed when she brought up the idea of turning them and then cursing them if they failed to prevent the opening. He had taken the Orb of Thessulah and the diskette with the restoration spell on it from Willow without her knowledge. 

However, he didn't have to use them. He could have left them to die, or turned them and let them stay soulless. Everyone would have loyalty to him because he was their sire. He could have gone back to killing and everything he did before he was forced to help. 

But he didn't. He had gotten them out of Sunnydale, cursed them, then began putting together an offensive against Alistair. She'd only seen him show emotion at one time, way in the beginning, and that was when he told her that he wasn't able to save her mother. Other than that, his face had stayed a cool, stoical mask. 

When she'd still been human, she'd had other boyfriends and loves that didn't last during her college years and afterwards. However, she hadn't wanted to settle for what she felt was second best. She needed someone who was her equal, who knew of her Chosen status and could take care of himself. Someone who could understand the pressure she was under and take it upon himself to help relive that pressure. Spike had fit that description perfectly, but she had been afraid to fall in love with another vampire. 

Now, she would spend an eternity loving him, even if he never returned her love. 

***** 

Willow smiled wickedly, as she unlocked specially added cage door in her and Oz's room. She opened it and dropped down to her bare knees, then crawled like a predator across the floor to where her sleeping boyfriend lay. When she got near his head, her tongue snaked out and danced over his ear. 

Oz stirred in more ways than one and she chuckled throatily. "Oz," she whispered in his ear. "It's time to get up." 

He opened his eyes and one corner of his mouth quirked. "Hey." 

"Hey," she repeated, scratching him lightly across his chest, as she straddled him. "I love it when you're post-wolfy." 

"Oh, really?" Oz said. He ran his hands up her thighs. "And why might that be?" 

"Because you're deliciously naked when you de-wolf," Willow told him before she captured his mouth with hers. 

Using her legs only to keep her balance, her hands moved between them to caress his erection. She felt his fingers tighten on thighs and she smiled into the kiss. Raising herself up slightly, she impaled herself on his shaft, causing him to break away with a gasp. 

"Willow, you're not wearing anything under your skirt," he growled, his fiery eyes meeting hers. 

"So you noticed, huh?" Willow teased, slowly rocking back and forth on him. 

"Something like that," he replied. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her down to kiss her again. Their tongues danced erotically together as she continued to ride him, gradually picking up the pace. 

She broke away from his mouth and grabbed his wrists. She pinned his arms above his head and thrust hard on him, hitting her clit on his pubic bone. She could feel herself coming close to the edge. "Who do you love?" she demanded. 

"You," Oz told her. "Always you." 

With his words, she cried out as she climaxed, ramming herself fully down on him. She barely heard his growl or felt his pulsating shaft as he came. She collapsed upon him, releasing his wrists, and she felt his arms go around her, holding her close. "I love you," she murmured into his neck. 

"I love you, too, baby," Oz replied quietly. He kissed her head, then was silent for several moments before he chuckled. 

"What?" she asked, raising herself up slightly to look at him. 

"I love it when I become post-wolfy, too." 

***** 

"Giles, I need a woman," Xander said, slamming the book he was reading shut. 

Giles didn't look up from his own tome. "You don't say." 

"I mean, come on, look at me," he continued. "What woman wouldn't want some of this?" 

"What woman, indeed," Giles said. 

"That's right," Xander said. "I am Xander, Child of the Beast, vampire in leather. Women can't resist the leather." 

"So I've been told." 

"Then why don't I have one?" He stood and added the book he was reading to the discard pile. "Angel has Cordy, the Oz-meister has Willow, Spike has Buff and me? I have Rosy and her five friends." 

"Six at once, how impressive," Giles murmured. 

"Giles, you're not even listening to me here," Xander whined. "I'm having a serious case of womanitis." 

Giles looked up from his book. "Xander, the mansion is filled with women. Pick one so that I may get back to work." 

"Damn, old guy," Xander said, with a whistle. "It sounds like you can use some good lovin', too." 

"Rupert, are you done yet?" 

Xander turned to the doorway of the library and saw an exotic half-demon, with long black hair and Asian features. If it wasn't for her whip-cord tail that curved upwards above her head, no one would ever know she wasn't human. 

"I think I can take a break, Illiana," Giles replied. He stood and gave Xander a Ripperish smile. "Some 'good loving,' eh, Xander? Perhaps I should try it." 

Xander watched as Giles left the library, his arm around Illiana's shoulder. "Man, even the tweed-vampire has a woman!" He grabbed the next book off of the "to be read" pile and slumped down into a chair. 

"Maybe I should go find that spell and see if Anya is still around," he grumbled, opening the book to a random page. "If she managed to get her necklace back she mi-yi-yi-yi-what is this?" 

Xander set the book down on the table in front of him and began to read. "Oh man...oh man....oh man..." 

 

Part Eight 

 

 

"The Crystal of Rathra," Xander said, standing at the head of the table where Spike normally stood. "Also known as the Rainbow Sphere. I'm not going to pull a Giles and go into the long-winded details of its history, so I'll skip right to the point." 

Giles glared at Xander, but kept quiet. The eight, old Sunnydalians were gathered in the library, having been summoned by Xander a few hours after he found the information. On his own, he had done the research and allowed everyone else to stay with their respective others. He knew that once the information was given, they would immediately act upon it and quiet time would vanish. 

The time had also given him a chance to see each of his friends at their happiest when he'd retrieved them. Giles and the girlfriend Xander didn't know he had, Illiana, had been playing chess and telling stories. Willow had been snuggled against Oz's leg, as the vampire-cum-werewolf played his guitar. Angel and Cordelia had been up to their knees in clothing, laughing and playing dress-up like children. 

Most special of all, he'd seen a moment of unguarded emotion from Spike. No one had answered the knock on his sire's door, so Xander had quietly cracked it open in case Spike was still asleep or he and Buffy were engaged in making whoopie. Instead, he'd found Spike crouched at a Buffy's side, the former Slayer curled up in a chair, asleep. He'd watched as Spike brought his hand up and brushed his fingers over Buffy's lips, a combination of love and sadness etched into his normally stoic features. 

Xander had closed the door as silently as he could, then knocked loudly. When Spike had answered, it was as if what he had witnessed never existed. 

"The Crystal of Rathra should send Alistair to a fiery demise. I say 'should' because we don't know exactly what type of demoness she is. To use the Crystal, all you need is sunlight to hit it. And vóila, like a prism, the light will be, um..." Xander glanced down at his notes. "Refracted and a rainbow will shoot out all the other facets. That rainbow just has to hit her and she should become flambé." 

"This is great and all," Cordelia said. "But what good does it do us? Suntans are so passe." 

"First, we get the crystal, then we'll worry about how to use it," Spike said. He crushed his cigarette stub in an ashtray and stood. "Listen up, children, because I'm only going to say this once. If Alistair was so hot to get her bloody little paws on it, we'll assume it works, which means this offensive is going to be a bitch and a lot of people are going to die. I do not want a single human to go." 

Everyone nodded and Spike went on. "I'm going to need non-humans that are strong leaders and can hold the community together if we die. I want each of you to draw me a list of five names of who you think can do this." He paused and lit up another cigarette, then began giving out rapid-fire instructions that were to be carried out immediately. 

"Willow, I want blueprints of where Alistair is holed up and the surrounding mile. Xander and Oz, make sure our weapons are ready. I want everything sharpened or filled or prepped for battle. Giles and Angel, I need you to pull out of your magickal arses any and all anti-protection spells to break through those she has set," Spike ordered, then turned to the last two. 

"Cordelia, I want you to run down to the infirmary and make sure we're stocked up for heavy casualties, as well as warn the staff. While you're down there, double-check all entrances to the basement and make sure anyone can get in and out quickly if necessary. Slayer, once I get the lists, I'm going to need you to scramble everyone and meet in the common room in one hour." 

Spike looked at each of them in turn, his blue eyes piercing theirs with deadly intent. "Alistair is going to die." 

**** 

The old museum loomed in front of them, gray and black from the fire that had gutted it many, many years ago. Large, black doors spanned across the north end at the top of more than two dozen steps. Glass windows were set up high on the outer wall, almost to the roof, and they were blackened from the fire, as well. 

The Rebels were going to attack from all directions. Team one, which included the Children of the Beast, were going through the front doors as soon as the signal was given. Teams two and three were to attack from the east and west, respectively. Team four, led by the Triumvirate, were coming from the south. 

Within the larger teams themselves were small teams, each made of five non-humans. Those secondary teams were the reason for the attack and why so many were sure to die that night. 

Willow crouched near the doors, hiding behind a pillar, Oz at her side. Her eyes were closed and she was quietly chanting, her left hand extended towards the doors. Everyone was waiting for the signal that would come when she felt the protective barrier vanish. Angel and Giles, on the opposite side of the museum, were the ones who were to break any magick, according to the formulated plan. 

"Now." 

Her voice was barely a whisper, but everyone heard. 

 

A battle cry engulfed the building, as all teams simultaneously attacked. Battering rams made quick work of the doors and Rebels swarmed into the museum. They were met immediately by Alistair's own private army in the vast main hall. 

The Children split off from their team, fighting their way to the stairs. The scent of blood was already overwhelming, pulling at the demons inside each of them. Screams of pain mingled with screams of victory, echoing off the walls in the large room. 

When they reached the stairs, they quickly descended a level, the sounds of battle dissipating with every step. Another small team could be heard ascending up the stairwell above them, their boots heavy on the metal steps. 

The hallway they ended up in was eerily quiet. Buffy was in the lead, her yellow eyes glowing slightly in the dimness. To her left and right, a few paces back, were Xander and Cordelia. Willow and Oz completed the open-ended triangle, knives held loosely in their hands. 

"I don't like this," Cordelia whispered, her eyes searching for the enemy in the side rooms. 

"Me neither," Xander agreed. "This has 'trap' written all over it." 

"Then stop talking and keep alert," Buffy ordered. 

"There it is," Willow said quietly a few moments later, moving to the doorway of what was once an exhibit. 

Buffy motioned to Cordelia and Oz. They nodded and Oz continued up the hallway, while Cordelia returned the way they came, both on guard. 

Xander stood beside Willow, looking into the room. The Crystal was sitting on a pillow on a pedestal in the center of the empty room. His eyes traveled over the walls and floor, as Willow chanted a detection spell quietly. 

"Nothing," the redhead told Buffy. "The room is spell-free." 

Xander pulled a knife from the sheath strapped to his arm and whipped it at the Crystal. The hilt hit it and the sphere was knocked from the pedestal to the floor. 

"Xander," Buffy hissed. 

"It's not booby-trapped," he said, giving her a small shrug. 

"But it's probably broken now," she growled at him. 

Willow took of her leather jacked and tied one sleeve around her wrist. She gave the other end to Buffy. "Make sure you pull fast," she said with a grin. 

Buffy nodded and Willow stepped carefully into the room. When nothing happened, she crept forward as far as the jacket would allow, then looked back at Buffy. "Add another." 

Buffy took off her leather jacket and tied it to the end of Willow's. The redhead continued forward, Xander's camouflage jacket being added to the chain. She reached the opposite side of the pedestal, bent and picked up the crystal, then quickly retreated from the room. 

"Got it," Willow said, holding it up. 

"This is too easy," Buffy commented warily, as the three of them put their jackets back on. "Way too easy." 

"Look out!" Cordelia suddenly shouted. 

The three looked back towards Cordelia and saw her go down, her hand clutched to her neck. A second later, they dove apart as a shotgun was fired in their direction. Alistair's guards used the shot as a signal to pour out of the other rooms on the level. The question as to where the thirty or more demons came from was pushed into the backs of their minds as they began to fight. 

Buffy whipped a knife at the nearest attacker, as she rolled to her feet. A second knife was pulled and she drove it into a demon's gut. "Let's go!" she yelled. 

Willow clutched the sphere to her as she bolted up the hall. Xander by-passed her and shoved the enemy out of the way like a linebacker, clearing a path. He turned around and saw Buffy hit the floor. 

Willow saw Oz leaning against the wall, eyes closed and she faltered. Alistair's guards closed around her and she screamed, "Catch!" 

Xander caught the sphere that had sailed through the air and sprinted for the south stairwell. He had one foot on the stairs when something stung him in the back of the neck, then all went black. 

***** 

Laughter echoed in the main hall, its evil sound causing the fighting to come to an instant stop. Spike pulled his knife out of the Gladiator's throat and rose, using the fallen creature as a step-stool. He looked over the heads of both the enemy and the other Rebels who were still alive. Hate flooded his system when he saw her. 

Alistair stood in the center of the large room on a platform that had risen out of the floor, dressed in a black body-suit that looked painted on. Her eyes swept over the room and she laughed again, causing several demons on both sides to cower in fear. If Spike didn't know it was useless, his blade would have been already embedded in her skull. 

"Foolish Rebels," Alistair said, her voice cool and calm. "Did you really think you could stop me?" 

She walked forward on the platform, her stilettos clicking with each step. She paused at the end and an evil smile tugged at her lips. "I wonder -- is your leader here?" 

Her eyes went from Rebel to Rebel, as if sizing up her prey. Spike didn't bother to dwell on the possibility that someone might reveal who he was, he kept his concentration focused on her, all his senses on alert. He could feel that something was about to happen and he knew he wasn't going to like it. 

"What? No one wants to tell me?" Alistair sighed. "Oh well, I guess I'll have to do this the hard way." 

She signaled and the floor behind her platform opened, revealing a second lift. His gut tightened when he saw what it carried. He felt Angel and Giles come up beside him, but his eyes didn't leave the sight before him. A murmur rose in the room, some excited voices, some scared, and Alistair laughed wickedly. 

"Yes, dear friends," she said. "Look at what I found. The Children of the Beast." 

She faced the five manacled to poles that were once part of an exhibit and bowed mockingly. However, the only one to see her do this was Buffy. Each of the others was slumped forward, unconscious. 

"What, no applause?" Alistair asked. The room erupted into clapping as her forces did as she asked. Spike ground his teeth together and waited. He knew there was to be more. 

Alistair raised her hands and the room fell silent once more. "Now, I have a proposition for your leader. If you step forward, I will let your Children go." 

Spike stepped back off the Gladiator's body, causing Angel and Giles to look at him. "You're not thinking-" Angel began. 

"Shut. Up." Spike's words were clipped as he spoke, his eyes icy as he met their stares. "You two free them, then get the fuck out of here, regroup and hit again as soon as possible. The bloody bitch is not going to win." 

"Oh Beast?" Alistair sang. "Where are you?" 

"And what are you going to do?" Angel asked. 

"Distract her." 

"You can't do this, Spike," Giles said. "None of them would want you to." 

"Since when do I care about anyone else?" Spike said coldly. "I want that Crystal and they're the best, despite their obvious fuck up. Now, go." 

"This is your last chance, Beast," Alistair said. "Show yourself or your Children will die." 

Spike turned and walked along the outskirts of the museum until he was opposite the platform, with Alistair between him and the others. He hadn't waited to see if Angel and Giles had followed his orders. He knew that they would. 

"Unless, of course, you're a coward," Alistair taunted. 

The clink of a lighter, followed by a hiss of a flame brought her gaze around to where he stood. He touched the flame to the cigarette between his lips, the light emphasizing his strong features and the thin, white line that ran from his temple to his lip. He inhaled deeply, the lighter going back into his pocket, as he met her eyes. 

"You?" Alistair laughed. "You're the Beast?" 

Spike said nothing as those who stood between him and her separated. Beyond her, he could see Angel and Giles already at work. He walked towards her, stopping when he reached the edge of the crowd. 

"I was expecting someone with more muscles or a scarier face," Alistair commented. She smirked. "I was definitely expecting someone taller." 

He inhaled on the cigarette and raised his hand to take it out of his mouth. Without turning or moving his eyes from her, he jammed the burning end into the demon coming up along side of him. The demon screamed out in pain, his hands scrambling to get the cigarette out of his eye. 

"How impressive," she said with an arch of one curved brow. She gestured and a Gladiator charged him. 

The knife he grabbed was embedded in the Gladiator's throat before anyone could blink. 

"Most impressive," Alistair said. "But what can you do against this?" 

Spike darted forward into the open space to get more room, as five Gladiator's and two Vultures swooped down upon him. He lashed out immediately with his booted foot, slamming one of the Gladiator's away. He threw a second knife as he straightened and it embedded into a Vulture's head, right between its glowing violet eyes. The second Vulture pounced upon its brethren and began to devour the corpse. 

He punched another Gladiator in the stomach, then grabbed one of its arm. Spinning, he launched the creature at another one, sending them both sprawling to the ground. He dropped to the ground as hands closed above his head and pulled a third knife from his boot. He turned as he stood, jabbing the knife upwards between the fourth Gladiator's legs. It howled in pain, the sound ringing throughout the room. 

Spike wasted a costly moment trying to see if Angel and Giles were successful. He felt the double-sets of arms go around him and lift him off the ground in a bone-crushing embrace. Grabbing the Gladiator's wrists, he dug his nails into the soft skin, pinching the nerves. He bent forward over the second pair of arms when the first pair released him. He pulled his last knife from the sheath around his calf, straightened, twisted and drove the blade through the Gladiator's temple in one, smooth movement. 

After he dropped to the floor, he rolled forward out of the way of the falling, dead Gladiator. He sprang to his feet in front of the one he'd first kicked, landing several hard blows to the creature's stomach. He could still feel Alistair's eyes on him, which was what he wanted. The second Vulture had moved on to the dead Gladiator. 

Grabbing the lighter from his pocket, he ducked behind the creature and lit the back of its shirt on fire. He then dove forward between its legs, sliding along the ground and twisting his body until he was on his back. He kicked up with both feet, slamming them into the Gladiator's legs, breaking its knees. As the creature started to fall, he shot to his feet and faced the remaining two opponents besides the Vulture. His face was still a cold, unemotional mask and he hadn't yet made a single sound. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the knife that had been embedded in the first Vulture and he quickly scooped it up. He turned with the action, throwing it accurately at one of the last two foes. Not pausing, he sprinted forward and jumped, planting a double side-kick at the knife sticking out of the Gladiator's chest. The blade descended with the blow to the top of the hilt. 

He saw that the crowd around the center of the museum was thinning and knew that the Rebels were using his distraction to make their own escape, as well. Alistair's followers were too engrossed in watching him to take notice of their departure. 

Facing his last opponent, Spike ducked as the massive arms swung at him. He bent and charged forward, grabbing the creature's leg and tipping him off balance. The two went down in a tangle of limbs. Barely stopping, he smashed his fist to the Gladiator's groin and was sent flying off the creature as it bucked in pain. 

Hitting the floor, he felt the bone snap in his arm and grimaced mentally. He rolled to his stomach and was about to stand when he felt a sharp bite on his ankle. He shook his leg violently, trying to dislodge the Vulture. The needle-like teeth of the creature pierced his skin through his fatigues. 

Returning his weight to his broken arm, he reached down the same time he brought his legs up and grabbed the Vulture's head. With a quick twist, its neck snapped, its teeth ripping from his leg. Spike let go and it joined the other dead on the ground. 

Those few seconds it took to kill the Vulture were his downfall. The last living Gladiator picked him up before he could move out of the way and slammed him over the its raised knee. He felt a vertebra in his back break, then he was unceremoniously dropped back to the floor when Alistair called, "Enough!" 

Spike awkwardly pushed himself to his knees, using one hand to support himself. Pain jolted his system, radiating from the injury in his middle back. The single vertebra that had broken, however, was preventing him from climbing to his feet. He heard the staccato click of Alistair's heels on the floor and he raised his head, his face still a stoic mask. He looked beyond the demoness, he saw that Angel and Giles had succeeded. 

Alistair stopped directly in front of him so he was forced to either raise his head higher or stare at her crotch. His icy blue eyes met her cold gaze and the two had a silent battle of wills. The demoness turned away first. "Pick him up and bring hi-" 

She stopped suddenly and Spike knew she'd seen her missing prisoners. He could feel the gloating smile wanting to pull up the corners of his lips. But before it could, he felt her foot connect with his temple and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. 

 

Part Nine 

 

"WILL YOU GUYS STOP!!" Buffy yelled, slamming her hands down on the library table. The others looked at her, startled. "We are not going to rescue him!" 

Willow gasped. "But, Buffy-" 

"No," Buffy growled, her eyes flashing yellow. "We are going to get that fucking Crystal and that's it." 

"We can rescue him at the same-" 

Buffy cut Xander off by punching him in the face. His head flung back and he returned his surprised gaze to her. "What was that for?" 

"Because I felt like it," she said slowly. She gave the others a cold look. "Now, he gave himself to Alistair because of our fuck-up. For all we know, he could be dead already." 

"Don't say tha-" Willow began. 

"Shut. Up." Buffy glared at her. "The Crystal is what's important. Spike sure as hell didn't sacrifice himself to that bitch because of his fuzzy feelings for us. I know it and you know it. We are going in to get the Crystal, nothing else." 

She turned and stormed out of the library, leaving the group in stunned silence. Angel was the first to speak. "Buffy's right." 

"What?" Cordelia looked at him incredulously. "If that was you, I-" 

"Cordy," Angel interrupted. "Spike wouldn't want us to attempt a rescue on him. How long has he worked to bring Alistair down?" 

"Forever, " Willow answered with a sigh. "That's all he's ever wanted since we were turned." 

"That doesn't explain why Buffy's acting like Bitch Queen of the Universe," Cordelia said. 

"She's trying to do what Spike would want," Oz said. 

"Even though her heart is undoubtably telling her to do otherwise," Giles added. 

"That's why I don't get it," Xander said, rubbing his jaw. 

"Sometimes there are things more important than love," Angel said quietly, bringing memories of events long past to everyone's mind. They were silent several moments, each of them looking at the door that Buffy had gone through. 

"Maybe we should try a sneak-attack rather than the frontal assault," Willow suggested finally. 

In another part of the mansion, curled up on his bed, the former Slayer cried. 

***** 

Spike surveyed the crowd that had gathered in the main hall of the museum under hooded lids. His arms were sore from holding them behind his back since the last time the guards checked him. He'd broken both of his pinkies and the sides of his hands in order to slip through the manacles on his wrists, which he now held in his hands. He'd been brought up several hours earlier to witness something, but he'd been unable to ascertain what. However, it didn't matter much, because he was going to use the opportunity of being on the main level to escape. 

It had only been a few days since he'd provided the distraction for the others to get free. His back had healed quickly, due mostly to the fact that he drained the Gladiator who carried him from the main hall to the lower levels where Alistair had her lair. Other guards had died in the same manner until they got smart and kept out of his reach completely after chaining his legs to the wall, as well. 

His body bore marks of torture under the fatigues he'd been re-dressed in. Cuts, burns and healing scars criss-crossed his skin, all made in an attempt to get him to reveal the whereabouts of the Rebels. They were unsuccessful. 

He was near the wall on the east side of the main room, supposedly chained to the column behind him. He could see faint daylight behind the blackened windows set high on the north wall, which meant that he would have to move quickly to get from the museum to the closest building without burning to ashes. His eyes continued to travel around the room and they landed for an instant on one of his knives still sitting in the center of the room where he'd fought. As it had been on that day, the crowd of non-human followers had made a semi-circle around the room, leaving the center empty. 

Alistair exited the room beside him and she smiled wickedly. He kept himself still as she walked up to him and ran her blood-red fingernail down his cheek. "I think you'll like this, my dear," she whispered. "Especially after all that trouble you went through." 

She laughed and the hum of voices fell silent. She spun away from him, the long cape she was wearing over her shoulders flying out behind her and hitting him in the shins. She started forward, her heels clicking on the hard floor. When she reached the platform, two demons dropped to the ground, making their bodies into steps as a third held out his hand to assist her. 

"My darling followers," Alistair said grandly. "A few days ago, the Rebels attacked in an attempt to eradicate me." She laughed. "That night, I captured their leader. However, due to some incompetent fools, I lost the Children. Well, tonight, I have them all!" 

She gestured and Spike bit the inside of his cheek when he saw Buffy, Oz, Willow, Cordelia, Xander, Angel and Giles shoved forward to the edge of the crowd directly across the room from him. Each of them had chains wrapped around their arms, pinning them to their sides, their wrists tightly manacled together. Angel, Xander and Willow were barely staying on their feet, their injuries far more grievous than those of the others. 

"Where is the Crystal?" Alistair asked, after the excitement died down. 

"Here, my Lord," a scarlet-colored humanoid said, stepping forward from the north part of the crowd. 

Time slowed down as the events that occurred next went into motion. Spike met Buffy's eyes across the room, as the humanoid started to walk toward Alistair, holding the Crystal of Rathra in his hand. I love you, he mouthed, then dropped his gaze the same instant he dropped the manacles he had been holding behind his back. 

His bare feet made no sound as he sprinted across the open ground. The knife gleamed as he dove into a roll, scooping it up with the non-broken fingers in his left hand. He rose fluidly to his feet and threw it with all his might at the high windows on the north wall. Without stopping, he took another step forward and punched the scarlet humanoid across the jaw. 

He stepped back, grabbed the Crystal with his left hand and his right foot flew up in a round-kick, hitting the humanoid in the nose. His opponent staggered backwards, blood spurting from his face, releasing the Crystal. 

Spike raised his hand in the air the same time the knife went through the corner of the blackened window. The glass shattered and a single beam of sunlight streamed into the museum. It struck the Crystal of Rathra, as well as his hand, and rainbow of colors shot from the sphere. He did not move as flames ignited on his hand and began traveling down his arm. 

Alistair let out a ear-shattering scream as the prism of light hit her body. Blue fire suddenly engulfed her. Her skin became liquified and began running off of her body. Muscles and tendons melted away, exposing her bones and the organs beneath. Her eyeballs shriveled as they burned, falling back into her skull. 

Spike grasped the Crystal with his other hand, keeping it in the beam of sunlight, as the orange-yellow fire burning him caused his left arm to drop uselessly. His face still held its cold, stoic countenance as he stared at Alistair, despite the flames spreading quickly down his own body. Other screams joined in, as the demoness' followers decided to flee the museum, trampling each other to get to the doors. 

A wail of indescribable agony rose from the disintegrating bones of Alistair. The jaw of her skull had dropped open and her head was thrown backwards as a black column of dark energy exploded out of her mouth. It smashed straight through the ceiling, sending mortar and structuring down into the room. The walls of the museum began to shake, cracking from the pressure and raining stone down upon those trying to make their escape. 

A large wind whipped through the main hall, as the museum collapsed in on itself. It hit Alistair's bones, shattering them into a million dust particles. The Crystal of Rathra shone brightly in the sunlight for an instant more, painting a rainbow prism on the grey tumbling walls. 

Then it fell unheeded to the floor, rolling forward a few feet before stopping, its clear planes reflecting nothing more than a collapsing museum. 

 

Epilogue 

 

Hundreds of candles flickered, lighting up the faces of those who held them. The back yard of the mansion was filled with both humans and non-humans alike, their expressions all similarly etched with grief. Quiet crying could be heard, the normal sounds of the darkness silent, as if the night was grieving, as well. 

An old woman dressed in tattered rags stepped forward and placed handful of rose petals in front of a simple, white cross that sat on the lawn. She turned and faced those in the yard, her voice clear and strong. 

"We are present tonight to pay homage to all those who gave their lives in the fight against Alistair," Minix said. "Each and every one fought not for recognition, or money, or power. They fought for freedom, for happiness, for life. And because of their sacrifice, we stand here today, free from Alistair's reign." 

Minix gestured to the white cross. "Let this symbol be a reminder to all of the men and women, humans and non-humans, who have died in order for you to live. The road ahead will not be easy and many more will join their compatriots in the afterlife, as we work to rebuild what Alistair has destroyed. But no one will ever be forgotten. 

"There is one man who I wish to single out this night," she continued. "One man who was there in the beginning, who built up the resistance from eight to eight million world-wide. A man who gave everything and took nothing in return. One who believed he was nothing special, who believed he was an ordinary soulless vampire who just didn't know when to quit. 

"He was there at the end, holding up the Crystal of Rathra in the sunlight, despite being a vampire, to destroy Alistair once and for all. A true hero is not one who does something because he has to or because he's been asked to or because there is no one else in which to turn. No, a true hero is someone who goes against the very grain of his being because he knows it is the right thing to do. 

"Many of you have known this man as 'Beast,' a few have known him by his name, and even fewer still have known him as a friend. He only allowed two people to become close to him, one he called sire, the other he called love. However, he touched all of us by his selflessness and devotion to creating a better world for us all." 

A slight breeze kicked up and the rose petals lifted off the ground and danced in the air. The mourners watched in awe as they climbed higher and higher towards the night sky until they disappeared from sight. When they returned their eyes to Minix, they saw a man standing there instead, his arm over a petite woman's shoulders, a tall man at his other side, both of them supporting him. The moonlight played over his scarred features, glinting off his white-blond hair, as he looked out over the group with his bright blue eyes. 

"I'm no hero," he said, his quiet, accented voice carrying through the yard. "You are, for going out day after day and risking your lives for what bloody well was a hopeless cause until recently, all because I instructed you to do so. You've seen your chums die, your loved ones, your children but you still kept fighting. And because of that, Alistair is rotting in hell where she belongs. You all are the heros, not me. I'm only a soddin' vampire who fell in love with a vampire Slayer many, many years ago." 

The applause was quiet at first, but then it steadily grew, as the trio made their way back through the men and women towards the mansion. Candles were blown out, and the mourners followed inside to gather again and celebrate life and those lives who had been laid to rest. 

A short while later, seven individuals gathered in a closed library and hugged each other tightly. 

"We did it," Xander said. 

"Barely," Buffy added. 

"I seem to recall it was Spike who 'did it,'" Giles pointed out. 

"We kinda got caught," Oz said. 

"Technicalities," Xander said. 

"Well, I for one am scarred for life," Cordelia complained. "Did you see how Alistair died? That whole skin-melting thing was worse than watching Xander dance." 

"I don't know whether to say thank you or hit you," Xander said. 

"Don't even think about hitting her," Angel growled, putting his arm around Cordelia's shoulder. 

"Boy, someone needs to get laid," Willow whispered to Oz. 

"Is that an offer?" Oz whispered back with a small grin. 

"I'd hate to run already, but if I don't get back downstairs to the hospital before they change Spike's bandages, we'll be short several nurses," Buffy said. 

"He can eat Helga," Xander suggested. "I don't think anyone would mind." 

"Not I," Giles muttered quietly. 

"Tell Spike we're thinking of him," Cordelia said. "And remembering all the times we were in the hospital because of the Beast." 

"Good point, Cord," Xander said. 

"I second that one," Willow said. 

"Me, three," Oz added. 

Buffy smiled. "I have to agree with you, too. Then again, if it wasn't for him...," she trailed off, as she left the library. 

"So, do you think we'll see her again in the next millennia?" Xander asked. 

"Doubt it," Angel replied. "I think Buffy and Spike are going to be spending a lot of time together." 

"Speaking of spending time together," Cordelia said, looking up at him. "We have a room full of things to put away."

 

"That's right, we do, don't we," Angel replied, catching her wink. They headed out of the library. 

"Don't we have some repairs to make on the cage?" Willow asked Oz innocently. 

"Big time," Oz replied. They smiled at Xander and Giles, then left as well. 

Xander and Giles exchanged glances, then Xander threw up his hands. "Go already. Find Illiana and do things that I want to be doing." 

"Goodnight, Xander," Giles said, giving him a small bow before leaving. 

Xander sighed, then shook his head and left the library, shutting off the lights behind him. "I really need to dig up those Anyanka books..." 

 

In the beginning  
Good always overpowers the evils  
Of all man's sins... 

 

End


End file.
